


in any other world

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of AU meme ficlets. Prompts listed at the beginning of each story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. island in the Nile

**Prompt** : river x doctor, 1920s expedition to Philae  
  


  
Well, whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been  _this_.

_xx_

"She's dangerous." The warden warned as they walked down the dank prison hall. "Don't know what you need her for."

 "She's cheap. And I need a good gun hand, though it pains me to say it."

"Well she'd rob you blind as soon as look at you. And that's only if she doesn't shoot you first. But hey, your funeral."

Well, now he felt even  _better_  about the whole expedition.

_xx_

"What, a girl's not allowed a good night's rest before her execution?"

"Execution might be stayed. If he pays enough for you that is." The warden sneered and she flew out of bed, toward the bars of her cell.

"I am  _not for sale_  you filthy pig, and I would rather  _die_  than let you enslave me like chattel-" She spat the words out and the Doctor watched her carefully. He'd known she was a woman. He'd known she was dangerous. He hadn't quite known she would be this gorgeous.

"You don't get much say in it now do you? If you value your life at all, you'll shut your mouth and listen." The warden spat at her and she flinched.

"That's - quite enough, I mean I can handle it from here, thank you." It pained him to even thank the odious little man, but the warden smirked and slid away, backing up to give them privacy.

She looked at him for the first time since he'd arrived and her eyes widened with surprise and then amusement. "You think you can  _handle_  me, Professor?" She smiled and his breath caught in his throat.

"What? No. Yes. I mean no! I mean I don't want to  _handle_  you. Not like that!"

"Sure about that, sweetie?" She leaned against the bars with a smirk and he flushed.

"I need someone handy with a weapon. And cheap. You're it." Her flirtatious demeanour dropped and she looked at him seriously.

"What for?"

"Excavation work - Philae. Temple of Isis. What do you say?"

"I say how much?" She smiled and he waved a hand at the warden who unlocked her cell after the Doctor handed him a wad of notes. The Doctor smiled and nodded at the money he'd just handed over.

"Just about that much."

_xx_

"Philae is submerged in the Nile isn't it?" She spoke over the hum of the boat's engine and he nodded.

"Only during the rainy season. It'll disappear eventually if something isn't done about it."

"So what's there?"

"How do you mean?"

"What are we looking for?" She spoke slowly, staring at him as if he were slow-witted. Which he was not. Most definitely was not - he spoke seven languages, could decipher hieroglyphics, was the foremost leading expert in the- "Pretty boy. Are you deaf?"

"No! And don't call me pretty boy. I am not a  _boy_." Her smile turned indulgent and he sighed in frustration. He couldn't have been saddled with a dull-witted prisoner?

_xx_

It was gorgeous. Dust under his boots and ancient buildings towering above him in the relentless sunshine. He could see Trajen's kiosk off beyond the courtyard and he bounced up the rough hewn steps in excitement. Standing in the central courtyard, he turned around, his eyes on the columns that lined it, all leading up to the doors of Isis' temple. He never got tired of this place and the stillness about it.

"You know, as happy as I am that you seem to think dust and rocks are the best thing since Christmas, would you mind taking my handcuffs off now?" She held out her hands, standing there in the uniform the prison had provided her with.

"I don't know, are you going to shoot me or try to take off?" He asked loftily and she rolled her eyes.

"We just got dropped off on an island in the middle of the Nile. That boat's not coming back for a week, and if you don't take my cuffs off soon, sweetie - well, I'm just going to get all  _sorts_  of kinky ideas." She grinned as he stared at her open-mouthed. He muttered to himself before tripping over to her and unlocking her handcuffs with haste. She rubbed her wrists before shrugging off the heavy coat and stripping off her uniform top until she was back in her white tank top. "Hmm, pity. I was almost getting excited there for a moment."

_xx_

"So you're really just here for rocks?" She knelt before the small fire she'd made, in front of the tent he'd helped her pitch. She was boiling water over it and glancing around the sky that was fast fading into a deep purple.

_"_ Not just rocks.  _History_. Preservation. I'm cataloguing damage done by the Nile's water levels."

"Why?" She asked, as she poured the water into a teapot, and he was surprised to see only frank curiosity in her gaze.

"I want to - to save it all. It'll be a huge project."

"Then why do you need me?"

"It's an unguarded temple and there are thieves who still pillage these types of places, you know. I don't like guns, and I-"

"Clearly couldn't win in a fist fight against a child." She smirked and he rolled his eyes. "You didn't even ask my name."

"I know your name. River Song - the warden told me." He paused, before glancing over at her, her face warmed by the firelight and her hair free once more. "It's a lovely name. You didn't ask my name either."

"You're an archaeologist. Professor or Doctor something or other. Which one?"

"Doctor. Smith, but everyone just calls me Doctor." Her laughter was warm and it seemed to echo round the island itself.

_xx_

"So come on then. You're dying to give a lecture, I can tell." She was drawing a detailed map - quite good actually - as they walked around the island and he made notes on the damage done since his last visit during last year's dry season.

_"_ I am not."

"Yes you are. Come on then,  _educate_  me, Doctor." She teased in a breathy little voice that seemed to shoot right through his chest. She was irritating, he told himself. Not exciting.

Not at all.

_xx_

"Why were you in prison anyway?" They were exploring the inner temple today, and the shade was a welcome relief.

"Woman travelling alone in Egypt? I received an offer I had to refuse with my fists. Only that wasn't clear enough so I may have shot him."

"You  _murdered_  someone?" He stared at her and she laughed.

"Oh  _please_. No! I simply shot him in the leg. Well, near  _enough_  to the leg. The important part is he didn't die. And  _probably_  won't be forcing himself on other women any time soon, if ever again at all." She smirked over at him and he stared, not sure which was worse. Murder or  _that_.

"Remind me never to piss you off." He muttered and she leaned into his space, her mouth close to his ear.

"Oh I wouldn't  _shoot_  at yours, sweetie. Just so you know." She winked and pulled back, leaving him speechless.

_xx_

"Doctor _,_ what's this?"

"What's what?"

"It looks like a crack in the - no a  _seam_  in the wall. Is there a door here?"

"No, of course not! Nothing on my diagrams and besides, where would a door-" She wasn't listening, instead running her hands along the walls and peering down at the dusty floor, sweeping dirt aside with her foot. He wanted to say something about her touching the walls - any contact was detrimental after all and he'd  _told_  her that, but just then there was a click and the door sprang back. He stopped and stared in shock. She grinned - bright and eager, her whole face lit up.

"Never could resist a lock."

_xx_

A chamber.

An underground chamber buried in the heart of the island and he felt a thrill go through him as he turned to look at her. Her eyes were lit up and she grinned back with enthusiasm.

"This is  _amazing_." He whispered, looking around in awe before looking back at her. " _You're_  amazing. I never would have found this. No one would have."

She moved closer to him, until her chest brushed against his arm and he swallowed heavily, glancing down at her. "I guess we'll need to be staying longer then yeah?"

"I thought you hated all of this _."_  His throat felt dry and her face glowed in the light from his torch.

"Not  _all_  of it," her voice was husky and she reached up, adjusting his bowtie gently, her eyes meeting his. "Maybe I'm developing an affection for history."

"For history? _"_  He raised a brow and his blood sang through his veins as she leaned in closer to him. Just them, alone in a chamber no one had stepped foot in for centuries, the thrill of discovery and _her -_

"Something like that, yeah." She whispered before her hand slid round his neck, pulling his head down to her hers _._  Her mouth was soft and he made a sound of surprise in the back of his throat.

_xx_

Screw what he'd been expecting. The unexpected was far more rewarding.


	2. down the rabbit hole

**Prompt** : river x eleven, Alice in Wonderland  
  
 **  
**

  
He woke up with a start. His head ached and he sat up carefully. "Legs - yes. Bowtie? Cool." He ran his hand over his neck and then further up. "And the hat survived! Oh excellent." He grinned to himself and clapped before glancing around and spotting his cane on the ground beside him. He clambered to his feet slowly, picking up his cane and checking around.

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought." He looked round the woods - dark and grey and mysteriously misty - if woods could be called such things. "I think they can." He responded to himself and glanced up and down the path.

"Talking to yourself. Never a good sign." A voice spoke from above him but when the Doctor glanced up, nothing was there. He frowned and glanced around once more, twirling on his heel with the assistance of his cane.

"Who's there?" He asked quickly, but echoing laughter was his only response. "Well. That's rude. I mean what's the point in talking to people if they can't see you? Unless of course, you're invisible, in which case, my bad - terribly rude of me."

A row of even teeth appeared, hovering in the air over a near-by low-hanging tree branch. Slowly two glowing green eyes materialized after and then several long strips of teal blue fur. The Doctor sighed and pulled his fob watch out of his pocket, making a show of checking it. "Is this going to take all day?"

A cat appeared with a soft pop and hiss of smoke, looking incredibly put out. "Well, if I'm keeping you from wandering about, completely lost - by all means, don't let me stop you." He huffed, crossing his paws in front of him as he glared balefully down at the Doctor.

"Oh a cat - excellent. I speak cat you know. Though, I suppose you speak english, so what's the point eh? Ah well, onwards I suppose. Where am I?"

"Right here, of course." The cat lolled onto its back, grinning at him with glee.

"Yes, quite right. Should have been more specific. Where is  _here_  exactly? I fell you see-"

"Down the rabbit hole, of course." The cat spoke over him, rolling over once more and placing his face on his paws.

"Yes! Bigger on the inside rabbit holes. Who'd have thought - honestly? So again - where is here?" The Doctor asked politely, and the cat laughed, the sound echoing through the trees.

"Nowhere. Middle of."

"Right. And how do I get back?"

"Can't go back - only forward. Silly man." The cat hummed as he spoke and looked him up and down. "She'll like you."

"Who will?"

"Can't ruin the surprise. Where's the fun in that?" He grinned again, and the tip of his tail started to fade from view.

"Wait - but how do I leave?" The cat's mocking laughter as he disappeared from view whispered around the Doctor. Soon enough, just his mouth was suspended above the branch again.

"You can check out whenever you like, Doctor. But you don't ever leave."

"How did you know my name?"

"How did you know mine?" He grinned and the Doctor frowned.

"But I didn't - I just said you were a cat."

"And so I am. I am a cat. A Cheshire Cat to be precise. And how did you know  _that_?" The cat demanded in a huffy voice and the Doctor frowned.

"Because it's what you  _are_."

"Precisely. I am a cat. And you are the Doctor. Should we not call things by their proper names? Well except for her - nobody calls her by her proper name, not in a million forevers."

"Her  _who_?"

"Go forward, Doctor. She'll be right behind you." And then with a puff of smoke, all trace of his mocking laughter was gone.

"Well. The locals are immensely helpful." The Doctor muttered to himself before picking up his cane with a grin. "Ah well, nice evening for a stroll anyhow."

_xx_

Music. He could hear melancholy music coming from over the hill, and he climbed on in search of it. When he reached the top he saw a dilapidated windmill, and in its courtyard, a series of tables, covered in white table cloth with tea set out, willy-nilly. A rabbit - no not a rabbit, a hare - sat on the left side of the table and a small mouse sat across from him. At the head of the table was a woman, and the Doctor stumbled down the hill toward them, tripping along lightly. She was in a black dress - formal, and her hair was absolutely mad. Big and curly and rather more and more impressive the closer he drew. She looked incredibly bored. Or incredibly sad. Or maybe both at the same time.

"Hello!" He spoke as he reached the table and the hare stared at him in shock while the mouse screeched and hid in a teapot. The Doctor glanced over in concern. "Hopefully that's  _empty_."

"Of course it is you ninny." The hare snapped. "Why would she hide in a hot pot of tea? That would be ridiculous."

"Right, of course it would be. My mistake. Hello. I'm the Doctor." He nodded to the two animals - the mouse had lifted the cover a bit to peek out - and glanced to the head of the table. She was standing now, staring at him in shock before she recovered.

"Well hello, sweetie." She practically purred, her expression darkening a bit and she licked her lips. The Doctor swallowed heavily, suddenly nervous.

"Ah. Well. That's...  _friendly_." He managed to squeak out. "And you lot are...?"

"Well I'm March Hare, and this here is Dormouse. Oh bless, she's asleep again, Hatter." The hare addressed the woman and she adjusted her dress before leaning forward and hitting the table with her fist. The teapots all rattled and Dormouse stretched and yawned before curling into the pot, fast asleep.

"Well, so she is." The woman observed and shrugged before seating herself once more. "I'm Hatter."

"But that's just what they call you right? It's not your name,  _can't_ be your name - who would name their little girl Hatter?"

"Presuming one had parents." She spoke pleasantly and he raised his brows.

"Everyone's got parents."

"Well if I had, I've forgotten. They've always called me Hatter-"

"Because she's mad as the day is long. Also - hates hats." The hare whispered. “I'd watch out if I were you."

"Why am I always  _ignored_?" A voice demanded from the end of the table and the Doctor looked back in shock.

"Well perhaps if you weren't  _invisible_ , we'd chat with you more, love." Hatter spoke indulgently and the Cheshire Cat materialized with a grin.

"Oh, quite right. Forget myself sometimes." The cat admitted and the Hatter laughed - a full rich sound that tickled the Doctor somewhere in between his lungs.

"Don't we all, dear?" Just then the mouse leapt out of the pot, clutching the remains of a bonnet and wailing.

"Mad Hatter. We should have called her hat murderer!" The Doctor looked at her in surprise and pointed at the woman with his cane.

"What,  _her_?" Hatter smiled at him, a gleam in her eyes that made him feel as though he needed to sit down.

"Look at my bonnet - I am so upset I could just-" she yawned and promptly went back to sleep.

"Daft old thing. That bonnet was atrocious. I don't hate  _all_  hats. Just the horrid ones. Or sometimes even decent ones I suppose if they're the wrong size. Too large for a too small head or too small for an overly large head-" The hare snickered at this and the Doctor blinked. "Yes, well."

"Is it because you can't wear any yourself, perhaps?" The Doctor moved to the head of the table, pulling out a chair and seating himself to her right. She stared at him for a moment, surprise on her face.

"Well the hair is a bit mad, but that's just because everything is here." She said with a grin and the Doctor found himself grinning back, despite the oddity of the entire situation. "Do you want to know what I call me, Doctor?"

"Absolutely." He nodded, leaning forward eagerly as she poured him a cup of tea, ignoring the others at the end of the table.

"Above all else?" She teased him, and he found himself studying the curves of her face - it was a lovely face, honestly. "What if I said I would answer three questions, if you can answer one of mine?"

"That sounds like a fair enough trade." The Doctor spoke thoughtfully. "More than fair actually." She smiled and sipped her tea, and he watched her mouth press against the fine china, leaving a faint smear of lipstick behind.

"All right, my question first. Why is a raven like a writing desk?" She grinned wickedly and the hare moaned in protest.

"Not this again!"

"Well if  _you_  lot were intelligent enough to come up with an answer, perhaps I'd have stopped asking. No one in this infernal wretched place can answer me, and I  _need_  to know." She snapped down the table and the hare rolled his eyes, turning to the cat and ignoring her. She looked back at the Doctor, leaning forward eagerly. Her hand brushed against his wrist on top of the table and the Doctor felt a strange tingling sensation, his skin growing hot and then cold again.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" The Doctor mused, before looking up at her with a grin. "Flat notes. Every note that each produces is flat." She stared at him, before breaking out into a wide grin.

"You're smart."

"I am."

" _Finally_." She breathed the words out, and moved suddenly, out of her chair to kneel on the ground beside his, her hands grasping his as she tugged him closer. "I fell too Doctor - a million forevers ago and time never passes here. It is always tea time, and this place drives you mad. If you are intelligent - can you find a way out of here, do you think? Can you escape?" She whispered the last words, leaning in so close that he could feel the brush of her lips against his hair.

"Of course I can. I always do." He promised her solemnly and she looked up at him, her eyes wide and suddenly she didn't look so dark or imposing, she looked like a young girl, even though she wasn't. "Now my three questions?" She nodded quickly and he leaned toward her. "Where are we?"

"I do not know. A land of madness and upside-down downside-ups. Ruled by the red Queen, and she is a  _vicious_  woman. It is vast and unending and I have walked all across it, and never discovered a path home." She swallowed and he brushed a knuckle against her cheek. It was petal soft and she smiled at the sensation.

"What is your name?"

"A long, long time ago - they called me River. River Song." She whispered the answer into his ear and he pulled back to stare down at her.

"Beautiful." He murmured and she blushed. "And my last question is this - will you come with me?"

"Oh yes. To where?" She asked in after-thought and he stood, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her up beside him.

"Everywhere."


	3. my doctor

**prompt** : river x doctor, 18th or 19th century period drama

  
**_my doctor_ **

“Is there a physician in the house?”

The Doctor sighed and waited a moment, as was proper, before pushing through the throng of people milling about the lobby in the direction the voice had called from. A footman eyed him nervously as he stopped before him. “I’m a surgeon. Might I be of assistance?” The footman hesitated, his eyes shooting beyond the Doctor’s shoulder for a moment before he nodded.

“Follow me, sir. The Lady Song has fallen into a fit – we are quite concerned.” The Doctor followed him to one of the boxes, curious. Lady Song was notorious in London. A widow who did as she pleased and yet somehow managed to escape society’s scathing. Everyone knew her, and discussed her, but no one dared speak anything untoward to her directly.

When he entered the box, he saw her in a heap on the floor, several upper class idiots hovering around and looking suitably shocked and scandalised. He knelt beside her, pressing a hand against her forehead and lifting her lids to peer at her pupils in the dim light. “You should clear the box,” he spoke in an aside to the footman hovering close by. “She’ll need the air.” No sooner had he spoken than it seemed as if the box was emptied as if by magic. He loosened her bodice considerably, his hands brushing against her skin intimately. She was as lovely as he’d heard – masses of magnificent curly hair, and her skin was pale and smooth. She had a wide, generous mouth and her cheeks were full. He thought she would probably have a lovely smile, though he couldn’t be sure. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped, struggling to sit up.

“Calm down.” He spoke in a quiet voice, with a kind smile. “You fell unconscious – I’m a surgeon, I came from down below.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Doctor. I feel – well honestly a bit weak, but thank you for assisting me.” He helped lift her to her seat and she looked up at him, taking him in properly. “I don’t believe we’ve met...”

“Well we hardly would have, now would we Lady Song? Name’s Smith – John.”

“Such a common name for such an uncommon man.” She murmured, her eyes trailing over him before she smiled fully. His heart tripped in his chest – he had been right. It was lovely. “I feel as though I can breathe a bit easier now, Doctor.”

“No small wonder, your bodice was ridiculously tight.” He pointed out, picking up her hand and pulling out his fob watch so he could count her heartbeats. “You also seem to have a slight fever, Lady Song.”

“Yes, I know. My physician has been treating me for it.” The Doctor sighed harshly in annoyance. Physicians and their  _treatments_.

“Blood letting, I suppose?” He snapped and she looked up at him with widened eyes.

“Well yes-”

“Might I give you a piece of advice, Lady Song?” He crouched before her, his fingers still wrapped loosely around her wrist even though he was no longer counting her heartbeats. He was aware, however, of her pulse quickening under his fingertips and he felt the oddest tension in his chest at the sensation.

“Is that not your job, Doctor?” She teased, arching a brow and he found himself suppressing a smile, reducing it to only a twitch in the corner of his mouth as he looked down for a moment.

“I went to university you know, but they wouldn’t graduate me because I was incredibly disagreeable. Refused to adhere to Stahl’s treatments. This is only the opinion of a lowly surgeon, my lady, but blood letting is an unsafe practice, and in fact will make you more ill. It weakens the body.”

She leaned forward, interest lighting her eyes as she stared at him intently. “And what might you prescribe for my fever, Doctor?”

“Rest. Exercise – daily walks greatly improve the constitution. Cool baths to help your body reach a more normalized temperature.” He answered, despite knowing that she would ignore everything he was saying. She bit her lip, and behind her the curtain opened, admitting her friends.

“Thank you Doctor, I shall try your suggestions.” She spoke quietly, and leaned in ever closer, the fingers of her left hand curling up to brush against his own. “Might I know your direction, in case I should need clarification or further treatment?”

He studied her with surprise, before detaching his hand from hers and pulling out a small notepad from his pocket. He scribbled his address down for her, before tearing it out and handing it over. She accepted it with a demure smile and he stood, walking over to her footman who was hovering near the door. “I’d recommend an early evening for her ladyship. Wouldn’t want a repeat performance.” He clapped the man on the shoulder before wandering out of the door, his hands in his pockets as he pondered the probability of ever encountering her again.

_xx_

The probability was quite high, as it turned out. He received a note not a fortnight later, and at her request made his way over to her home.

  
“Ah Doctor Smith,” she smiled as he entered her chambers, she was standing by the windows and looked quite a bit less pale than the last time he’d seen her.

“Lady Song,” he greeted her and she waved a hand, making a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. The look she gave him made his skin tighten and he glanced around nervously, suddenly feeling very much like a lamb in a lion’s den.

“Please, call me River. I’ve called you here to give you an update.” She smiled as she glided across the room to settle down in one of the small chairs by the fireplace, indicating the other with a wave of her hand and waiting until he’d settled in. “Your advice was very  _excellent_ , Doctor.  My fever has been gone for nearly ten days now, and I have come to the conclusion that I should dispose of my physician’s services.  Do you take on new patients, Doctor?”

He swallowed in surprise, sitting straighter. “Lady Song-”

“River.” She corrected and he frowned at her familiarity.

“River,” he conceded and her bright smile felt like a reward for the capitulation, “women of your class do not have surgeons as their Doctors.”

“But I like you. You’re bright, and intelligent and unafraid to stand up for what you clearly believe is best for your patients. You’re also  _far_  more pleasing to look at than my previous Doctor. Are you married?” She questioned suddenly and he shifted in his seat nervously.

“No, Lady – River,” he corrected at her glare, “I am not.”

“Excellent.” He smile was even more predatory then, and he felt like he should be feeling a response of fear or discomfort. His body however, seemed to disagree, instead shooting thrills along his nerve endings until he felt a strange tingling sensation all over. “So you’ll accept then? And take over as  _my_  Doctor?”

“I, uh-” He stammered and she glanced over at him flirtatiously.

“Of course you will.”

_xx_

She was by no means shy. Her forthrightness was something he hadn’t expected, and he was shocked and titillated by it all at once. His third visit, she outright invited him into her bed, and he’d stood, staring at her in shock.

“Oh come now, Doctor. We’re both grownups, and I am no shy virginal debutante. You’re attracted to me, I can tell. And that is all very fine because I find you excessively pleasing.”

“I am your Doctor!” He protested and she grinned lasciviously.

“Yes, you  _are_. Shall you not examine me more thoroughly?” He stared at her for a beat and shook his head in disbelief.

“I am below your station my lady.”

“Stupid thing, isn’t it? If you must be below me, I’d  _much_  rather it be in more enjoyable ways, Doctor.” Her hand slid up his leg and her fingers brushed against him intimately and he found himself leaning forward in anticipation, despite all his protests.

“This would be madness.” He breathed the words out and she smiled, victory hovering around the edge of her lips as she moved even closer.

“Madness can be enjoyable, Doctor.”

“Of that I’ve no doubt, River. But if anyone were to find out...” He almost couldn’t believe the words he was speaking, and she smiled in triumph, her hand sliding along his chest as she pressed her body against his. He felt a strange sense of absolute rightness settle over him at the sensation. Like she fit into him – like she was something he had been missing, his whole life. His heart pounded and he knew there was no point in fighting her.

“Then don’t tell anyone, Doctor,” she whispered, her lips so close to the skin of his jaw that he felt them brush against him as she spoke. She never addressed him by name. Always by title. And yet insisted he use her first name, at all times. It was a deliberate shift of power between them that thrilled him more than it should.  She glanced up at him with a smile. “Confidentiality, right? And I feel suddenly ill, and in need of your near  _constant_  service, my Doctor.” She pulled his head down and kissed him, her mouth eliciting reactions within him that he’d never felt before. When she finally released him, her eyes were bright and her skin flushed.

“Now let’s see about that bedside manner.”


	4. come fly with me

**Prompt** : River x Doctor, 1960s pilot and stewardess

  
He loved to fly. Always had, even when he was a kid. He’d climbed the oak tree in front of his house at age five and jumped out - broke one arm and a leg when he hit the ground. But  _boy_  had those five seconds in the air been worth it.

He liked the surge of the engines under his feet, the hum of the floor plates, the rolling and pitching when they hit turbulence. And of course, he quite liked the stewardesses too. Women who had a taste for adventure - they came and went on their journey from bright, innocent inquisitiveness to the shackles of marriage. It was never a career for them.

Which was a damn shame, because who could ever give up their wings just to settle down in some back water town and reminisce about how they saw the world from 10,000 feet? Not him - he'd fly forever.

"Coffee boys?" The cockpit door opened behind them and the pilot glanced back.

"I'm good, thanks Song. Alright there, Doctor?" Jack, the pilot, looked over at him and he shrugged.

"Nah, I'll go get it myself in a minute. No need to distract the ladies. Got enough work to be getting on with, I think." He kept his eyes on the sky in front of him, and heard her soft laugh behind him. It was a rich soft sound that curled like smoke around him.

"Well aren't you a rarity. Just shout if you need anything." The door slid shut again and Jack glanced over at him.

"Glad we have River on this flight." Jack spoke casually. "Best purser there is, really. Have you flown with her before?"

"Nah - first time. River? Think I'd remember a name like that." The Doctor responded with a grin and Jack chuckled.

"Oh you'd remember  _more_  than that."

_xx_

He was pouring coffee for himself and Jack, nodding to the stewardesses coming in and out of the galley. Some he knew, some he didn't. He was pouring a far too generous amount of sugar in his own coffee when he heard that same laugh behind him. "And you actually make good on your claims. Impressive."

He turned around, opening his mouth to respond only to have absolutely no sound come out. She was... well. She was gorgeous. A mass of curly hair pinned back and he could just imagine what it would look like free of its constraints. Her smile was warm, her lips full and generous and her eyes sparkled with a wit and intelligence he was unaccustomed to seeing. She was also quite a bit older than him - and he found himself instantly intrigued. She wasn't the young, too-skinny, vapid girls that usually filled this job. "River, right?"

"River Song." She held out a hand and he grinned, putting his cup back down so he could shake it. It was soft and small in his own and he felt a strange tingle shoot up his arm, straight to his heart, felt like. It reminded him of when he was five - falling through the air. “And you are?”

“They call me Doctor.”

“Who does?”

“Everyone.” He shrugged, running his hand through his hair and grinning shyly.

“What’s your real name?” She smiled with curiosity and he tapped her on the nose, startling her.

“Secret.”

“Must be bad if you prefer Doctor. I bet I can get it out of you.” She looked him over like he was suddenly a personal challenge and he laughed, leaning in to her.

“Tell you what, River. You’re welcome to try.”

_xx_

He asked her to dinner almost as soon as they landed. She eyed him up and down, before arching her brow and agreeing. Jack laughed almost as soon as she left the cabin.

“You’ll never get her, Doctor. Many have tried, all have failed. Locked up tight, that one.”

“Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough.”

“Isn’t she a bit old for you?” Jack teased and the Doctor laughed.

“I’m an old soul, Jack. And I like a woman who’s aged to perfection.”

_xx_

“What are you doing here, baby face?” She asked over dessert and he leaned across the table, picking one of her hands up in his. He’d been right – her hair was  _magnificent_  once it was set free. He vowed upon first sight of her in the hotel lobby – he would touch it, wrap it around his hands. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted a woman before.

“We’re in Paris. What else would I do but share a meal with a beautiful woman?”

“You’re young.”

“Not  _that_  young.” He grinned and she laughed.

_xx_

“Why’d you take this job?” He asked, after regaling her with stories of all the trees he’d fallen out of in his youth. She was remarkably easy to talk to, and he was surprised by how much he’d opened up to her immediately. They’d walked the streets aimlessly after dinner, by passing clubs and tourist attractions easily.

“I wanted adventure. See the world.” She answered predictably and he grinned.

“They all say that.” He pointed out and she laughed and nodded in agreement. “Why didn’t you ever get married?”

“I saw the world. And I’ve never quite found a man who I liked the look of more.” They were standing on a bridge over the Seine and he smiled down at her.

“That’s brilliant, that is.” She smiled in agreement and they shared a tiny secret grin – like they knew something no one else did.

“Do you want to know a secret?” She whispered into the still night air and he leaned down to hear her better. “I’d have been a pilot if I could. But I’ll fly however I can.”

He looked at her for a moment, her face only illuminated by the dull orange lamps that dotted the bridge occasionally. He could see the intensity burning in her eyes, and he swallowed, recognizing it.

He kissed her then.

Couldn’t  _not_  kiss her, really.

_xx_

“I can teach you.” He whispered into her skin later, his lips brushing over her where her heart was and she laughed softly.

“Teach me what?”

“To fly.” He smiled and she looked at him in surprise.

“And what do you get out of it?”

“You.” He spoke truthfully and her teasing smile faded as she watched him, her hands in his hair.

“Well I suppose I could teach you too.”

“Teach me what?” He laughed and she raised a brow, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. He flushed and decided he’d be the most attentive pupil ever.

_xx_

Technically it was against the rules.

“Practically, I don’t really give a damn.” She pointed out and he’d laughed. She knew the scheduler, and somehow managed to get them on most of the same flights. They saw the world together. Danced in London, Cairo, Tokyo, Rome.  _Everybody_  knew. But nobody said a damn thing to either of them.

He took her on board planes being maintenanced. Sat her on his lap and showed her the controls, explaining what each and every one did. She was a fast learner – and he even managed to borrow a friend’s private plane on one of their off weekends. The look on her face when he’d handed her the controls mid-flight was the best thing he’d ever seen.

She’d flown for a full hour, delight on her face. When she’d finally let him fly again, she’d demonstrated just how thrilled she’d been. He was lucky he didn’t crash the plane, really.

_xx_

“Do you ever think about marriage?” He’d asked her softly one night in Barcelona. She shrugged and glanced over her bare shoulder with a grin.

“Not really. I don’t want to be tied down.”

“What if...” He’d stroked a hand along the length of her spine, admiring the dip and curve of her waist as he sought the courage to continue. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade, looking up at her. “What if it was someone who didn’t want to tie you down? What if it was someone who wanted to fly  _with_  you?”

She rolled over to face him, surprise on her face. “We wouldn’t be allowed to fly together anymore.” She pointed out and he grinned.

“Only if we told them.”

“You want to get secretly married?” She laughed and he nodded, seriously. “Oh.”

“What do you think?”

“Doctor...”

“Come on,” he kissed her, pressing into her body, his hands on her waist and a smile on his lips. “Come fly with me.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” He pulled back in shock – before letting out a whoop of laughter, and kissing her enthusiastically, his hands lacing through her hair. “I love you.” He whispered and she grinned.

“Well, you have to sign a wedding certificate, Doctor. How else am I to find out your name? Told you I’d get it out of you.”


	5. if your hands are bloodied than so shall mine be

**prompt** : River/Doctor, Shakespeare ( I chose Macbeth)

  
“I don’t know if I can do this, River.”

She watched her husband pace the floor, wringing his hands and flinching at the slightest noise. She remained still, watching him patiently, knowing that to attempt to comfort him now would only agitate him further. “It was foretold, my love.”

“Death? Murder? Betraying our Lord President? How is  _any_  of that written in the stars?” He stopped, staring at her intently and she moved closer, taking his hand in hers.

“This war has been going on far too long, Doctor. You know it and I know it. Raissilon would see the entire  _galaxy_  destroyed before he is through.  _All_  of time and all of space. Doctor… what else can we do? He must be stopped. You heard the soothsayers words - destruction will be brought upon us all if he should succeed.” She lifted her hand to his face, stroking it gently and wiping away the tears she found there.

“This isn’t who I am, River. I’m the  _Doctor_. I don’t take lives. I save them.”

“Doctor means many things in many languages, my love. Healer, wise man,  _warrior_. Protector. And what are you if not that? Our race must be protected, and it must be protected from him.” She spoke in a low voice and he leaned into her touch, his eyes pleading with hers.

“Is there not any other way?”

“We cannot overthrow him - the High Council would refuse. You know this to be true. Death is our only option.” She swallowed, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him.

“And if we’re found out? What then River? I’m incarcerated for murder and you’re left alone.” His whisper stirred the curls in her hair and she shook her head fiercely in denial.

“After all this time - all these lives lived together, you think I’d let you do this  _alone_? No my love, if your hands are bloodied than so shall mine be. I will not leave you to do this on your own. And if - if we are caught…”

He looked down at her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her mouth, swift and biting, like he wanted to punish her for her convictions, and maybe a small part of him did. His lips softened over hers and she moaned, her hands clutching at him in desperation. He pulled back, his breathing heavy. “And if we’re caught?”

“Then we’ve saved them all from a fate worse than death. And I’ll gladly pay the price, so long as I’m with you, my love.”


	6. boy genius

**prompt** : River/Doctor, modern day crime drama  
 **  
**

  
1.

“I don’t need a partner.”

“Your last five partners have left-“

“ _Not_  my fault, by the way. I can’t help it if they can’t keep up. The last bloke couldn’t even make it past the crime scene.”

“You need someone to keep you in check, Doctor. Brilliant though you may be, you’re rubbish with the victims and I’ve found someone who-“

“I do the best thing possible for the victims! I find them justice. Now if that means I don’t have time to hold their hands or-“

“Your  _job_  Doctor is to provide security and protection. First and foremost - even while working homicide. Now I’ve found someone who I think can handle you.”

_xx_

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“Transfer, Song. Effective immediately so you can drop those files off and pack your things. You’re going over to Homicide.”

“Homicide, sir?”

“I know you’ve been gunning for it, Song.”

“But I don’t have the time in-“

“Your solve rate is excellent, and your work with the victim’s unit has been exemplary.” 

“I’ve been begging for this posting for months and kept getting turned away. Why  _now_?”

“Keeping this job depends entirely on you, River. Your partner is… well, he’s notoriously difficult, to be frank. Best solve rate in the entire city - but he’s short-tempered and doesn’t play well with others.”

“Sounds like a dream,”

“Well, you never know. Maybe he just needs someone who won’t take his shit. Can you be that someone?”

“I absolutely can. Who will I be working with?”

“The Doctor.”

2.

He was sat behind his desk, typing furiously and stopping occasionally to scribble on the notepad next to him. She glanced around his office - cluttered and messy - books everywhere and several crime scene shots pinned erratically around the walls. It looked a bit chaotic, but she smoothed her blouse and knocked on the door frame before entering.

He didn’t even look up. She walked in anyway - a little rudeness wasn’t going to stop her. “You must be the Doctor.”

He still didn’t respond. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he seemed completely engrossed in whatever was on his screen. She propped a hand on her hip and cleared her throat, loudly. Still nothing.

She waited a moment, before deciding he was just being plain childish, so she lifted her foot and kicked him under his desk. Hard. He glared up at her. “Oi! I am  _working_  here. Who the hell are you?”

“Well, if you’d responded when I knocked, or came  _in_ , then you wouldn’t be in this predicament would you?” She bit back, but inwardly she was cataloguing him - from his floppy brown hair to his square glasses to his loosened tie. He was actually quite good-looking in a lanky sort of way, she decided.

“Who’s being rude now? I asked who you were.” He pointed out, and she felt him glance over her just as thoroughly as she had him. She’d heard so much about him - brilliant mind, but anti-social.

“I’m your new partner.” He laughed out loud at that, and shook his head.

“No. No you’re not.”

“Why not?” He arched a brow and looked her over again.

“ _Look_  at you. I can’t have a partner with the-” he waved a hand over his hair and she glared at him in response. “You’re in a  _skirt_.”

“I don’t dress like this for cases-“

“Oh so that bit’s just for me then?” He grinned and she flushed, her glare intensifying.

“Oh, I hate you already.”

“They all do.”

3.

“There’s no common thread - nothing at all that ties the victims together!” He had papers spread all around them and a frown on his face.

“There has to be  _something_.”

“Yes, well, as mightily helpful as  _that_  is, Song - unless you happen to magically know where our killer would be selecting his victim’s from - I really can’t see how that would-” She kicked him sharply under the table and glared at him. He looked shocked, and she felt shocked too - but something about him drove her  _mad_. And to physical violence apparently.

“I hate you.” She glared and he shook his head with a sigh.

“I know.”

4.

“Did you stay here all night?” She stood in the doorway, looking at him sprawled across the couch in his office. He rubbed his eyes and blinked wearily.

“Can’t go home. Too much to do.”

“You told  _me_  to go home, you daft man!” She walked further into the room, placing his coffee cup on the table as she shoved at his slim hip until he edged over enough that she could sit on the couch beside him. “You need sleep too you know.  _Proper_  sleep.”

“Six weeks ago you’d have kicked me in the shins and told me to get the hell up.” He pointed out, looking up at her with a slight grin.

“I’m still thinking about it.” She spoke dryly and he laughed.

“No, you aren’t.” He spoke with confidence and she hated him - because she knew he was right. Six weeks and three cases later and they were finally finding their groove. He was absurdly charming when he wanted to be, but also so seriously intent about his work that he came off as aloof. And he was  _brilliant_. Really, genuinely so - she’d never seen anyone make the leaps and bounds his mind did.

“Drink your coffee, and shut up.” She spoke indulgently and he grinned, reaching his hand out and brushing it against her hip as he grabbed his cup and sat up. She closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and watching him take a sip. “You need to take better care of yourself, Doctor.”

“Isn’t that what I have you for, Song?”

“Oh, I  _hate_  you.” She ground out, shoving him in the ribs and he grinned.

“I know.”

5.

They always spun theories as they sat in his office, surrounded by photos of evidence and witness reports. Sometimes he would shoot hers down unceremoniously. Sometimes she caught him unawares - with a sheer moment of insight. Sometimes she shot  _his_  down in flames.

He was terrible at the small day-to-day details. He saw the larger picture, saw the crime and the players like little game pieces on a chess board - but he often lost sight of the  _people_. She never did.

He was grinning, bursting at the seams with his latest insight of sheer brilliance and she was staring ahead, mulling his idea over in shock. It all made perfect sense.

“You’ve got that face on again, Song.” He grinned over at her and she stared at him warily.

“What face?”

“The he’s hot when he’s clever face.” He looked incredibly smug and she looked over at him, leaning in a bit.

“It’s my normal face.” She breathed the words out, and he glanced down at her, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her mouth.

“Yeah it is.”

“Oh I  _hate_  you.” She said it regularly enough, and his response was always the same. He knew. This time though, he leaned in even closer, looking her in the eye.

“No. You  _really_  don’t.”

She swallowed harshly in surprise. The room stilled around them, and he came closer and closer, until she could feel his breath on her cheek. She smiled suddenly and he frowned. She pulled him toward her with a laugh.

“Well, it’s about time you figured that out, boy genius.”


	7. legends

**Prompt** : River/Doctor, 1920's bank robbers a la Bonnie and Clyde  
 **  
**

 

They are legends. 

Everyone knows the stories of the Doctor and his Song - bank robberies and petty theft - con jobs and murders. Everyone has heard about the charming man who could rob an old lady blind, and his gun-slinging moll who always had his back.

The only two people who know the  _actual_  story though - are them. And they will tell you it’s not a story about murder or robbery or mayhem.

This is a love story.

Plain and simple.

_xx_

She met him at her parents’ of all places. One thing you need to know about River Song is that she was a good girl. Well, certainly not the  _best_  girl, but she’d kept out of trouble for the most part. But the Doctor arrived one blustery cold day in December, strolling through her parent’s back garden like he owned every inch of the ground he stepped on. She was standing at the kitchen sink, washing the mugs from tea while her mother nattered on about a visitor - someone her Dad had known in ‘the old days’. Which of course, always meant the war - but they never called it that.

She looked up through the window, and saw her father embracing the young man in their garden. He had floppy hair and a rakish sort of charm about him. Something in his smile spoke to her of secrets and shadows and she felt a thrill go through her.

He looked past her father and met her eyes through the window.

And just like that, River Song was in love.

_xx_

It’s not as though they’d intended to become criminals.

They hadn’t. But the Depression was hard, and she’d left home just to  _be_  with him, against her parents’ wishes. She didn’t regret a thing. She kept a small leather bound book that she wrote everything down in - stories of how they tramped around - all across the country and beyond. They never settled - the Doctor was amazing.  _Amazing_. But he had a darkness in him that she recognized - and he could never stay too long in any one place. ‘ _That’s when the memories catch up with you River.’_

 He tried to send her home a thousand different times. Told her he was no good, and she deserved so, so much better. But what could possibly be better than  _him_? Nothing, her heart whispered fiercely. ‘ _You deserve to stand in one place for more than three days, River. This isn’t a life for someone like you. You - you’re amazing. Precious.’_

_‘Only to you, my love. And I’d run anywhere - as long as it’s with you_.’ He found odd jobs when he could. She’d wait tables when she could find places looking for help. But the money ran out long before their feet got tired and she refused to ask her parents for help.

She found an old gun by a dumpster - didn’t even work. But his eyes had gleamed and they stopped at the next gas station and made away with one free tank of gas, eighteen dollars and a lifetime’s worth of exhilaration.

Every journey starts with one small step.

_xx_

They crossed the country - knocking over convenience stores and gas stations. The thrill was exciting, set their hearts pounding and he’d laugh and press kisses against her skin, swear that he’d only ever love her as he worshipped her body afterward. She knew he meant every word he said - saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way he touched her skin - he handled her like she was the most precious thing in his life.

Eventually they got bored. Restless, and his eyes lit up when she suggested a con this time, not a robbery.  _‘Money without guns? A challenge. I like it, River.’_  They’d spent a while working those - laughing mercilessly about how he had a face you could trust, and she had talents of her own, though he hated when she used her body to sway strange men. ‘ _You’re_ ** _mine_** _._ ’ he would whisper against her lips and throat and shoulders and breasts later.

She never disagreed.

_xx_

They got married in Vegas, signed the register and kissed the bride, and robbed the chapel blind.

_xx_

He was itching for more though, and she could see it in his eyes so the next town, she sat them at a sidewalk cafe, drinking coffee while he read the newspaper and commented about the absolute shit of a world they lived in. She nodded demurely, sipped her coffee and watched the bank across the street.

They drove away three days later with adrenaline singing through their blood and four thousand dollars in the boot of their car.

_xx_

He’d never meant to hurt anyone, she knew.

It was never part of their plan. They liked fooling everyone. They liked the thrill and the cash didn’t hurt either. But the police had been so  _close_  this time, and they’d opened fire. She was driving, and her hat got shot off of her head, and the Doctor - well, nobody hurt  _her_ without consequence. He’d opened fire on the three cars behind them, his anger raining down in a hail of bullets and gun smoke.

Three officers died.

He’d cried into her neck that night, as she held him close and pressed kisses all over every inch of his face she could reach. He’d whispered ‘ _I’m sorry_.’ into her skin and she smoothed her hands across his back and gave him the only absolution he’d ever sought - hers.

_xx_

They were wanted after that. Never stayed more than a day in any one place, and the police tried,  _so_  hard to trap them. Corner them, catch them. But she’d push the pedal to the floor and he’d smile at her from the passenger seat, a machine gun in his hands and she nodded in agreement. ‘ _There’s always a way out_.’ He whispered the words before opening fire and the police would stare as they barrelled through impossible odds, wheels squealing and guns blazing.

There was no accepting defeat for River and the Doctor.

_xx_

It’s a story no one talks about. And nobody tells this story as a romantic tale but the two of them. They ran and ran until the pavement burned their feet, but the saddest thing about every story is that they have to end.

 There was always a way out for them - but eventually their escape routes ran out. It was a flat tire, and then another shot out as their car squealed into a tailspin on an abandoned route. She’d swallowed, and looked at him with fear in her eyes, but he’d kissed her and told her - they weren’t going to go to prison. Not them.

They’d kicked out the back window and gunned down five men before one of the policemen shot at the gas tank.  
When their bodies were discovered, they’d been wrapped up together - mounds of burning cash and clothes in the trunk, and one small leather book that told the only love story they’d ever known or cared about, pages curling with flame and turning to ash alongside them.

_xx_

They were legends.


	8. pride, prejudice and daleks

> **Prompt:** river/doctor, pride, prejudice and daleks

“There are plenty of pretty, pleasant girls, Smith. You’re getting as bad as Darcy, you know. I can see why you’re best mates.”

“Pretty, pleasant, timid, boring  _girls_ , Charles. I find the whole thing excessively dull. Though I do love to dance. But the small talk required is almost insupportable.”

“Oh I’m sure there will be a widow or two in the crowd, John. We all know just where  _your_  tastes run to.” Miss Bingley spoke archly and John rolled his eyes, rudely.

“Jealous Caroline? Oh but of course we all know you’d much rather count your husband’s money than spend any time  _earning_  it in the-“

“John!” Charles exclaimed in shock and John felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. “She is a young, unmarried lady!”

“Well, the young and the unmarried parts sound right, Charles. Two out of three eh? I’m going to go find Darcy. Help him support a wall or two. Avoid young women and their matchmaking mothers.” John clapped Charles on the shoulder and shot a glare at Caroline.

“But isn’t it the mothers you prefer to  _negotiate_  with, John?” Her lilting barb followed him as he strode away.

_xx_

Darcy was too busy brooding. Charles was far too busy all but proposing marriage to some tiny blonde thing. And John avoided the rest of his party at all costs. He prowled about the assembly hall, wishing he could be back in London. The society here was just-

“Oh pardon me _,_ sir.” He felt the brush of a soft warm body against his, and looked up to see a woman before him, clasping a fan in one hand and wearing an expression that indicated she wasn’t sorry at all for bumping into him. _  
_

“I shall not.” He all but bounced in his eagerness - she was a beautiful woman, probably married, but that had never stopped him before. She had a certain spark in her eyes that told him he would enjoy this tussle immensely - be it just in words, or rather more.

“You shall not pardon me? How rude.” She arched a brow at him and he grinned, knowing that he could be particularly charming when he was required to be.

“Yet you beg forgiveness for a deliberate action without apology. Is that not also rude?”

Instead of mocking offense she grinned brightly, leaning forward. “But why would I apologise for something so enjoyable? Besides, it was  _you_  who were pacing and flailing about the entryway excessively. One would think you were practically  _asking_  for it, sir.” He moved behind her and she opened her fan, eying him.

“Well, maybe I was.” He shifted in two inches closer, until his chest brushed against her back and she glanced over at him with a smirk. “Am I enquiring in the correct direction, or might my enquiries be met more happily elsewhere?”

“You are cheeky. What is your name?”

“John Smith.”

“That’s an excessively boring name. I dislike boring things, Mr. Smith.” She inched away and he reached out, grasping her arm just above the elbow.

“I make up for it, I assure you.” He promised in a low voice and she laughed. “And you are?”

“Mrs. Song. River.” She added and he grinned at her married title. He did so  _love_  an experienced woman. Perhaps this place wouldn’t be so boring after all.

“River Song. That is a very not boring name.”

“Oh I’m so far from boring Mr. Smith, it’s considered a bit of a scandal around here.” She leaned over, whispering conspiratorially and he smiled down at her.

“I do  _love_  a good scandal, Mrs. Song. Perhaps you could tell me more about it, out of ear shot?”

_xx_

She was exquisite. Widowed, he’d managed to find out in between heated kisses as he pressed her into the library desk. She refused to yield before him, her frame pushing back into his in a delicious way that made him fully aware of the fact that she was going to make this whole trip worth it.

Her skin was soft, supple under his hands and her waist was tiny as he gripped it. She was delightfully bold, and clearly comfortable with the notion of intimacy as she moaned into his mouth, her fingers gripping his cravat tightly. “And here I thought I would go out of my mind here for the next fortnight.” He murmured the words against her throat, kissing his way down to her bosom, his hands sliding up the sides of her dress.

“Oh what a pity that would be, Mr. Smith. I can’t have you leaving the area without being  _fully_  satisfied with our little piece of country.” She spoke in a breathy tone, her voice sending shivers across his skin. He’d not even properly touched her yet, and she had him reacting like a young boy, about to lie with his first woman.

She pulled his face up to hers again, kissing him surely, her tongue flicking against his and he moaned, his hands fisting in the material of her dress. There were noises in the background, music and loud voices and screams-

She pulled away just as he did and they both looked to the door. “What was that?”

“Did you hear screaming?” She spoke at the same time he did and he moved closer to the door. There were odd noises, some type of eerie voice speaking. A noise he’d never heard before was followed by yet more screams. He swallowed and glanced around the room, but she was already shoving a chair closer to the fireplace and climbing atop of it.

“What are you doing?” He hissed and she reached up, yanking the two ornamental swords mounted over the fireplace down and tossing him one.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound friendly.” She pointed out practically and he stared at her in awe.

“Stay here.” He instructed and she arched a brow at him in disbelief.

“I’ll forgive you this once, since you don’t know me very well, Mr. Smith.” She walked over to him, the other sword in her hand. Reaching for his jacket she yanked him closer and kissed him swiftly. “You only get one, though. Come on.” And with that she walked out of the library door ahead of him.

_xx_

“You will be silent!” The voice echoed and she took him by the hand, leading him through servant passageways until they could see the ballroom from the alcove. 

“What on earth is it?” She breathed out in horror, but he could see the bodies on the floor and felt a rage swell in his chest when he saw Bingley among them.

“Something that is going to die.” He ground out evenly, and she put a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Something that is going to  _kill_  you if we’re not smart. Wait to see what we’re up against.”

The thing hovered - as if by magic - and swung what he assumed was its eye around the room. “Restoring. Restoring! You will be silent or I shall exterminate you.”

“But what do you  _want_?” An extremely loud and livid woman screamed and they heard the noise again and blue fire erupted from the wand of the monster. The woman fell with no sound.

“That is not natural.” River breathed behind him and he nodded. “That was Mrs.Bennet. Excessively annoying woman, but still.” She paused as the monster moved down to the ground.

“The daleks will rule this world. You will serve us or die!”

John moved then, surging forward, sword in hand as he rushed the… thing in the middle of the ball room. Several people screamed, and the thing swung toward him as his sword clanged against its metal plating. “Restoring. Restoring! You will be exterminated. Extermina-“

He shut his eyes, certain her was about to die, but instead the voice died halfway through, screeching and dying off. He opened his eyes to see River standing next to him, and the sword she’d been carrying was buried straight into the eye of the creature, causing it to smoke and hiss like fire. The entire ballroom stood motionless, staring at them.

“You heard it.” She snapped at the dumbfounded room. “It said Daleks - plural. More will be coming. Get to your homes. Arm yourselves. Go!” Her words galvanized them into motion and she whirled, grabbing his hand.

He gripped it tightly. He had no idea what these things were, or if any of them would survive. But he met her eyes, and saw the fire within them and knew two things.

He would fight, regardless of the odds.

And he would not leave her side.

“Run!”


End file.
